


broad stripes, bright stars

by demotu



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demotu/pseuds/demotu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t exactly what Patrick had been picturing when Jonny’d said <em>you beat us and this time, I’ll wear your colors</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	broad stripes, bright stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smoulderandbraids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoulderandbraids/gifts).



> So smoulderandbraids made [this post on tumblr](http://smoulderandbraids.tumblr.com/post/76740545785/serenadestrong-jonny-post-olympics-he-had-a-bet), with some very inspiring tags on the image shown below. I'm always down for some happy-go-lucky spanking in my fic, so hey, I thought, why not?

~

 

Patrick knows Jonny’s at his place the moment he walks in the door—he’s too much of a slob to be stealthy about that. Patrick kicks Jonny’s boots to the side of the hallway and drops his own coat on top of Jonny’s on the bench, curious. Jonny knew he had dinner plans with friends, and Patrick figured he’d be passed out at his condo by nine, still recovering from the time change before they had to fly to New York to meet the Rangers.

Patrick steps into his room and sees that he was half-right. Jonny is passed out, face mashed into the pillows of Patrick’s bed, but it doesn’t look like he’s intending on catching up on sleep because Patrick is  _completely fucking sure_  that Jonathan Toews does not  _sleep_  in _American flag briefs._

“Jesus,” Patrick says on an exhale, breath hitching when he draws air back in. Jonny’s got one knee pulled up and his ass is—shit—stretching out the stripes obscenely. His shirt’s pulled up around his chest, and Patrick wants to lick the hollow of his spine, run his hands up Jonny’s bare thighs, press his face against Jonny’s ass and breathe  _in_.

Patrick gives into the rubbery weakness in his knees and sinks down carefully onto the bed beside Jonny, rubbing a hand across his mouth. He doesn’t want to wake Jonny, not yet, not until he’s been able drink his fill. He knows this is supposed to be funny, Jonny following up on a drunken bet that Patrick had honestly completely forgotten about, but it’s also Jonny, in his bed, dressed up—or down—for him, unmistakably Patrick’s.

It’s not like this is new. It’s almost exactly four years old, in one way or another. The first time was a bet, too, one with a lot less intent, although this isn’t exactly what Patrick had been picturing when Jonny’d said  _you beat us and this time, I’ll wear your colors._ After Vancouver, Patrick had shown up at Jonny’s condo and taken off his coat and said  _how long do you want me in this_ , bitchy and wearing a Team Canada jersey with  _Toews_  across the back. It had ended differently from how both of them had been picturing it.

It took a long time for Patrick to realize the answer to his question was  _forever_ , but that’s where they are now. It’s good,  _so_  good, even when the hard parts of their lives rub up against the softness of the bedroom.

There’s nothing soft about Jonny’s butt when he’s in motion, pushing through into the ice or against weight in the gym, but asleep like this, relaxed and easy, Patrick can reach out and press his fingers in, twisting the stripes with deep indents. Jonny makes a small sound, turning his head to the side and shifting under Patrick’s grip.

“Hey,” Patrick says, relaxing his fingers and dragging them down Jonny’s hip.

“Hey,” Jonny echoes, voice rough with sleep. “You’re home.”

“Yup,” Patrick says, distracted by the way Jonny shifts as Patrick drags his palm over his ass, steady circles across the worn cotton. They’re his—and so what, Patrick has American flag briefs and wears them on the regular. He mostly keeps them because Jonny never fails to look constipated when he strips Patrick of his pants and spots them. It’s especially hilarious when he’s on his knees already and can’t do anything but frown at the stars in front of his face. “These do not fit you at all, man.”

“No shit,” Jonny says. “But I wasn’t gonna go out and buy my own.”

“Hah, I guess not,” Patrick says, sliding a finger under the waistband and letting it snap against Jonny’s skin. Jonny makes a protesting noise and goes to turn over and Patrick presses into his hip to hold him down. “Nope, I like this for now.”

“Ugh,” Jonny says, but he lets his head fall back onto the pillow and draws his hands up underneath, settling in for Patrick. It tugs at Patrick, and he can’t stop himself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to the bulge of Jonny’s bicep, and then to the arch of his cheek when the corners of Jonny’s mouth turn up.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Patrick says, rubbing his nose against Jonny’s temple. “I’m trying to forget it, but I’m pretty sure you beat us. Again.”

“I know,” Jonny says, pushing up to press his face back into Patrick’s. “It’s not for the bet. That was mostly joking around with TJ, anyway.”

“Then why?” Patrick asks, sliding an arm across Jonny’s back, slinging a leg over both of his, and leaning into Jonny’s warmth. Their faces are tucked close together on the pillow, and Patrick can see the rising flush on Jonny’s skin, even as his pupils dilate under Patrick’s weight.

“You know,” Jonny says, voice rough. “It seemed, last time…” he trails off, looking embarrassed.

Patrick can’t help the grin that breaks out across his face. “Is this you like, recognizing our four-year anniversary?”

“No,” Jonny says, bitch-faced.

“Liar,” Patrick says, slapping Jonny on the ass jokingly—except,  _huh_ , Jonny's mouth drops open with a soft  _oh_ when he does it, face smoothing out. It’s not like he’s never slapped Jonny’s ass before, but it’s always been so much in the heat of the moment that he’s never seen Jonny reacting just to  _that_. It’s kind of hot. Well, more than kind of, Patrick thinks, rubbing his hand over the now-tense swell of Jonny’s ass before lifting his hand.

When he doesn’t drop it right away, Jonny turns his face back into the pillow. Jonny doesn’t say anything, but with his shirt riding up, Patrick can see him flex the muscles in his lower back, just enough to tilt his ass up. God  _damn_.

“You want it, huh,” Patrick says. He lets his fingertips drag across the fabric, watching Jonny tremble and arch up.

“Fuck _,_ ” Jonny says, muffled, then louder when Patrick slides his palm against the curve of one cheek. “ _Fuck_ , Patrick.”

“You want me to spank your ass, Jonny?” Patrick asks, shifting up on his elbow to get a better angle. Jonny tucks his head down to press his forehead into the pillow, tense and still, and Patrick adds, “Gotta ask for it, babe.”

Jonny lets out a sound, half breath, half whine, and shifts his hips, still not saying anything. Patrick drags his nails down Jonny’s spine, hitting the edge of the briefs and then skipping down to Jonny’s thigh, scratching until he reaches his own leg, pressed into the backs of Jonny’s knees.

“Shit,” Jonny grits out, twitching. “Fucking—do it Patrick, c’mon.”

“Do what?” Patrick says, biting his lip when his voice trembles.

Jonny turns his head to the side, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red. Patrick’s hardly touched him and his pupils are already blown wide.

“Spank me,  _please_ ,” Jonny says, Jonny  _begs._

Patrick brings his palm back down with a sharp  _crack_. Jonny whimpers, shoves his hips hard into the bed, and arches up again pleadingly. Patrick’s got to flex his own hips forward, grind into Jonny’s thigh, his cock pressed uncomfortably up against the fly of his pants. Jonny flexes under the steady slap of Patrick’s palm across his ass, working over the twitching, trembling expanse of it methodically.

Patrick stops holding back and lets his wrist snap, hard, connecting in a loud crack that has Jonny yelling. He presses his hand in, his fingers digging into the meat of Jonny’s ass, and then lets go to tug the briefs down, exposing the flushed skin underneath.

“Please, Patrick,” Jonny says harshly, turning his face towards Patrick.

“Yeah,” Patrick says dumbly, sliding his fingertips across the hot, red skin, and then letting go entirely. “I need to, hold on.” He ignores Jonny’s sound of frustration as he rolls back and undoes his pants, stripping them and his boxers off as fast as he can. It’s easier, on his knees, to pull Jonny’s briefs down around his thighs. Patrick doesn’t try and get them off, leaves them pulling tight around the front, hooked on the erection Jonny keeps rubbing into the mattress.

Patrick doesn’t waste any time after baring Jonny to go back to spanking him, working from the far side of Jonny’s ass, along the wide, low curve of it, until his palm is as hot as Jonny’s skin. Jonny can’t stop moving, hips jerking desperately back against Patrick’s hand and then forward into the bed. He’s pulled his hands down from under the pillow, fists clenched tight beside his head, face turned towards Patrick. His mouth is wet and round with the steady moans, interrupted by sharp inhales when Patrick hits him just right.

“Love your ass, damn,” Patrick breathes, sliding both palms across it reverently. “So perfect, even better fucked up like this.”

Jonny’s stopped moving under him, ass tilted up pleadingly, breath shallow and infrequent. Patrick lifts his hands off of him, and waits.

“Fuck you, c’mon,” Jonny says when Patrick doesn’t move, turning his face back into the pillow.

“Tell me,” Pat says, grinning. He leans back, fumbling for the lube on the bedside table and tucking it beside him. “You gonna come like this? Grinding into my underwear?” He snaps the waistband, pulled so tight against Jonny’s upper thighs it’s left a red line in his skin.

“Shit,” Jonny groans. “I don’t—maybe, god.”

Patrick spanks him again, putting his strength into it, and Jonny  _yelps_.

“Goddamnit,” Jonny grits out, circling his hips down into the bed. “Yeah, shit, if you stop pussying out and just _do it_.”

Patrick hits him again and then grabs the lube and pumps it into his right hand, folding his fingers down and getting them wet. “Wanna feel it, Jonny,” he says as he presses his slicked-up fingers between Jonny’s cheeks. He’s gotta work in between the thick, tense muscle to get to Jonny’s hole, and curve his palm sideways over Jonny’s near cheek. When Patrick pushes two fingers in, he gets a punched-out noise from Jonny that makes him flush hot, dick bobbing in front of him.

He can’t get deep enough to press against Jonny’s prostate, not without getting Jonny on his knees or face-up and spread. This is only for him, though, so Patrick doesn’t even try, lets his fingers hook in while he brings his left hand up and starts working Jonny over again, hard spanks with no real rhythm. Jonny bucks and yells when Patrick hits him hardest, and then ruts into the bed when Patrick lets lighter, loose flicks of his wrist land over the reddest parts of Jonny’s ass.

“Do it, babe, come on,” Patrick murmurs, pulling on Jonny’s rim and getting a loud, perfect spank on the low curve of Jonny’s far cheek. Jonny gasps and presses down, muscles bunching, ass flexing hard as he grinds into the bed, shoulders curved in so he can push down into Patrick’s hands. If Patrick couldn’t see it in the lines of his body and the sharp, needy sounds coming out of Jonny’s throat, he’d know how close to the edge Jonny is by the spasm of his hole around his fingers when Patrick hits him again and grabs on, fingers digging in.

“Pat, Pat, Pat,” Jonny chants. Pat leans forward to press Jonny down into the bed, works his fingers in deeper, and  _god_ , watches Jonny shake apart, coming and clenching tight around Pat’s fingers.

“Fuuuuck,” Patrick moans, getting his hand on his own cock, dry but more than enough with sight of Jonny splayed out and shuddering down from his orgasm. By the time Jonny’s relaxed back into the bed, chin tucked down on his shoulder to watch Patrick with glazed, dark eyes, everything in Patrick is wound up tight. Jonny unfolds his arm and reaches back to grip Patrick around the back of his knee, squeezing tight, and that’s  _it_ , Patrick’s coming, painting thick white stripes against the bright red of Jonny’s ass.

“Whoo,” Patrick says when he’s done, sinking back. He pulls his fingers out of Jonny’s hole, grinning at the soft “wuh” Jonny makes, and drags them through the mess, rubbing lube and come into the hot skin. “Wow.”

“Good?” Jonny asks, sounding sleepy. He reaches down to work the sticky briefs off of his legs with unsteady hands.

Patrick sticks out his tongue and helps Jonny get them the rest of the way off, tossing them onto the floor. “Yeah, loser,  _good_.”

Jonny gets his elbows under him and pushes up, frowning. “Patrick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick says fondly, grabbing a handful of tissues and wiping Jonny down carefully. He’s used to it now, how afterwards, Jonny likes to debrief, needs to make sure everything was optimal and find ways to improve. Patrick would be okay with more afterglow, personally, but it’s been four years and the sex keeps getting better, so he’s got no real complaints. “I liked it, you were fucking hot, taking it like that.”

“Okay,” Jonny says skeptically, and Patrick pushes him back into the bed with a hand between his shoulder blades. “But—”

“Fine, so next time,” Patrick interrupts, crawling over Jonny so he can tuck his face into Jonny’s neck, softening cock pressed comfortably against Jonny’s ass, and wrap his hands around Jonny’s. “Next time, I’m gonna put you face down over my lap so you  _can’t_  rub off, get you all fucked up and then fuck you with that vibrator thing until you’re begging for a hand on your dick.”

Jonny makes a pained noise into the pillow, fingers twitching under Patrick’s.

“Hey, you asked,” Patrick says with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Jonny’s ear.

“Fucker,” Jonny bitches, muffled.

“Love you too,” Patrick says.

 

~

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, if you tumblr, I do too, also under [demotu](http://demotu.tumblr.com). It's pretty prompt/excerpt/ficlet heavy, in addition to the usual gifs+pics of the Hawks and hockey in general!


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